Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. “After all, there are great things left in the world for you. I have been thinking these things over lately, and it seems to me that marriage for a girl is just the supremest thing in life. Wood. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. " Without another word, and accompanied by Thames, he then took his way to Dollis Hill in a state of the deepest depression. ‘He arst me to find him someone who might go with you. Blueskin goes with me. They ought to put a lamp. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. He was asleep.
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